Trackers (72 page)

'And at your gate it sends it via a
radio signal to a computer, that mails it to America.' In disbelief.

'More like a wireless transmission,
like a cellphone. It's high tech, my brother, you've got to open your mind to
understand it. But it's not just people looking at it in America, it's software
that first detects if it was an ugly thing, then the analysers look at it...'

'And have you received any videos
like that?'

'Lots. Last month a driver hit a
pedestrian, and when we looked at the video, we saw the driver bend down and
take his cellphone out to make a call.
Then
he hit the
pedestrian. We fired his
gat,
in
twenty-four hours, because what could he say? There was the evidence. In
Technicolor.'

Insight:
'That's why the drivers went on strike.'

'Right. The union said it was
unconstitutional, invasion of privacy. But the fact of the matter is, it
actually protects them. Because there are a lot of accidents when those cunts
with their expensive German cars cut in front of the bus, that class of thing,
because everybody hates a bus, never mind that it's taking the poor people to
work, the fat cats don't think that way. Anyway, we use the videos for
training, your drivers get better and better. And the big thing is, collision
damage is down sixty per cent, my bro', sixty per cent! And traffic fines also.
You don't just save money, you save time, you've sixty per cent less grief too,
that's the thing. And you can reward the drivers who have a clean record,
because there's more money for a pay rise.'

'So Danie got the videos every
afternoon?' A possible source for the 400,000 rand stirred in the back of his
head.

'He checked them in the afternoon,
but they come in the morning already. Tonight the server sends it to America,
tomorrow eleven o'clock when Danie clocks in at his PC, the emails are waiting
for him. If there was big shit, Mr Eckhardt would have phoned me already, and I
would have phoned Danie next, so the stuff he checked in the afternoon was
run-of-the-mill stuff, stuff that he would have to take up with his drivers.
You know, careless driving, doing stupid things. That's the stuff he would talk
through with his drivers in the afternoon.'

'It's a lot of
power to have ...'

'I'm not
following you.'

'The videos. Danie Flint had the
power every day to fire drivers. Because he had proof. Like you say. In
Technicolor.'

'So?'

'How many
drivers did he supervise?'

'About
eighty.'

'And what does
a bus driver earn?'

'Depending on
the overtime, between four and six a month.'

'Six
thousand?' while he did the calculations in his head.

'That's it.'

'Very well. Let's say Flint begins to
say to the drivers, I've got the evidence, I'm going to fire you, but if you
give me a thousand, I'll drop it.'

Philander thought about it, but soon
shook his head. 'No, it wouldn't work.'

'Why not?'

'A thousand rand? A week's pay? Most
of the drivers couldn't afford that, that guy would run to the union to
complain so fast you would just see a blur.'

'Make it less. Five hundred.
Two-fifty.'

'With all due respect, you're
thinking about two-fifty with a Whitey brain. These are people with a wife and
a bunch of kids, payments on the house and the car, school fees ...'

'But if you lose your job, you have
nothing.'

Still the head shake. 'Let's do the
sums. Maybe three or four serious incidents a week. At two-fifty a pop, you're
getting a thousand rand a month with your extortion. Now it would take you ...
about 400 months to get to 400,000 rand. Let's double the income, then it's 200
months ...'

His theory collapsed. 'That's true.'

'I'm telling you, that money isn't
coming from ABC. There's no way.'

Joubert wasn't ready to give up, he
grasped at a straw. 'May I look at his material? The actual videos?'

Philander looked sceptical. 'That's
union trouble. Confidential stuff. I'll have to phone Mr Eckhardt...'

'I'd appreciate that very much.'

'Are we finished now?'

'We're finished now.'

He knew he would have to return to
the office some time or other, but he hoped Philander would soon get permission
for him to go through the DRMP statistics, so that he had an excuse.

He walked to Long Street, went and
stood in front of the science fiction shelves at Clarke's, but found nothing he
wanted to read. Fantasy was all the rage these days, and he had tried it, but
to no avail.

Inspector Fizile Butshingi phoned him
after eleven. 'Nothing that will help us. I've checked everything.
Cash-in-transit heists are the only possibilities. And they don't fit.'

Joubert thanked him.

'Anything new on your side?'
Butshingi asked.

'Not really. I'll let you know.' And
then a light went on and he said quickly before the detective rang off:
'Inspector, could you tell me, were there any in-transit robberies in the area
north of the N1 ?' Reconsidered, made the area larger: 'And west of the N7. Or
on the N7. Montagu Gardens, Milnerton, Richwood, all the way up to Atlantis
...'

'Why there?'

'That's where Flint's bus routes
ran.'

'It's a stretch,' said Butshingi.

Maybe not. But Joubert just said: 'I
want to cover all the bases.'

'I'll get back to you.'

Seven minutes, and his cellphone rang
again. It looked like Bessie Heese's number. He answered.

'Mr Joubert, my name is Francois
Eckhardt. I am the Managing Director of ABC. Do you have a moment?'

'Of course.'

'Mr Joubert, you will excuse me, but
I'm going to be frank with you. Up to now we have done everything in our power
to accommodate you. For the sake of Mrs Flint. But I am at the point now where
I must begin putting the interests of the company, and all its other employees,
first. Especially when it comes to the DRMP records, I have to protect the
confidentiality of the bus drivers' performance information, and be very
careful not to violate our agreement with the union. We can't afford another
strike. I hope you understand ...'

'I understand,' he said, but his
heart sank.

'We can grant you access to the
system, but you will have to sign a confidentiality agreement with the company.
No records may leave our premises, no information may be made public. Unless
you have my written permission. And now I must say that I think you will be
wasting your time, that system misses nothing - but if you identify any
indication of misconduct by ABC employees, however insignificant, you must
immediately and personally bring it to my notice. I will make my cellphone
number available to you.'

He weighed up the implications. 'Even
if I sign it... If there is evidence of a crime, we will have to hand it over
to the police. That's the law.'

'Mr Joubert, all crimes that have
been demonstrated by the system have already been communicated to the police.
That is not a factor. Are you prepared to sign?'

He wondered if it was worth the
trouble, aware that he was desperate. Perhaps he was holding too tightly onto
his theory that the money and Flint's job were somehow connected. But he owed
it to Tanya to be thorough, to follow the statistics and a vague notion to the
bitter end.

'I am.'

Before he reached the ABC depot, Butshingi let him know there
was one in-transit robbery in the broader Flint area. 'But does Century City
count?'

'I'm not sure. Do you have details?'

'Nineteen September, ten o'clock in
the morning, on Century Boulevard ...'

Joubert felt the small injection of
adrenaline. It fitted his timeline perfectly.

'... between Waterford and Waterhouse
Boulevards. Seven men, two vehicles. More than 800,000 in cash taken. The
transit driver was killed.'

'Thanks, Inspector. I will see if I
can find anything.'

'But how can Flint be associated? It
was a black gang.'

'I don't know. But I have nothing
else.'

'OK.'

He signed the faxed confidentiality
document in Philander's office. And went to sit with him at Danie Flint's
computer.

'I'll show you how to run the DRMP
system. But please, I only have fifteen minutes.'

'Thank you very much. Can I ask you:
was Century City part of Danie's routes?'

'Absolutely. Why?'

Joubert had to hide his new optimism.
'I just want the complete picture ...'

They got Flint's computer going,
opened the DRMP program. Philander explained the basic principles. 'All the
videos are on the

server. They are cross-linked with
the route, the bus, the driver, and the action taken. You can view it according
to the bus, the driver, the route, or according to the date and time. With this
menu you can sort, if you only want the videos where there was further action.'

'What "further action"?'

'Disciplinary, accident reports,
third party claims, legal action. Take your pick. You can watch the forward
view and the backward view at the same time, or you can select here to see only
one of the two ...'

'Can we begin at the nineteenth of
September?'

'That's easy. Here's your calendar,
so you choose the month here, then this window opens up. Now click on the
nineteen, and there's your list. Four videos. You can refine your search with
this menu, if you just want to check a certain driver or route.'

'Which route is Century City on?'

'I don't know Danie's codes off by
heart, let me see ...'

It took him a while to get the
information and apply it. 'There are no videos on the nineteenth of September
for that route.'

'Can I see the four videos for that
date?'

'You just click on the icon every
time ... the video will play automatically ...'

They watched the videos together.
Fifteen seconds of forward and backward view, the images side by side.
Philander turned the sound down, so they wouldn't bother the other route
managers in the office.

Not one of the four videos had
anything to do with a cash-in-transit robbery.

Philander noticed Joubert's
disappointment. 'What did you hope to find?'

'I haven't the faintest idea.' But he would have to do the
footwork. Or in this case, the finger work. Until he ran out of options.

Alone in front of the computer he
struggled so much that he forgot about his sandwiches. The system was
complicated, with so many choices to activate. It was some time before he
realised he had activated the option for disciplinary hearings, and was only
seeing videos relevant to that. He had to go back, to his initial limit of 1
August, and watch them all again.

It was twenty to three when hunger
overcame him and he went in search of tea. Santasha showed him where the
kitchen was, asked if he was making progress.

'No,' he said.

The sandwiches were
bobotie
and chutney, and
a packet of cashew nuts, with a note from Margaret pinned to it. 'Nuts about
you.'

He smiled, ate with gusto, drank his
tea while he scanned every video, concentrating on the forward view from the bus.
A small percentage were serious accidents, where pedestrians or other vehicles
were involved. The majority were insignificant, bus drivers braking sharply and
too late for traffic, cyclists, cattle or sheep on the N7 at Du Noon, or dogs
in the residential areas.

August produced nothing.